


Batter Up

by queenhomeslice



Series: That’s it! I’ve come up with a new romance!: Ignis/Reader Stories [10]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Baking, Chubby Reader, Curvy Reader, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Making Out, Mutual Pining, fat reader, plus size reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:55:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26109796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenhomeslice/pseuds/queenhomeslice
Summary: You make an unexpected move on Ignis one night while the two of you are hanging out, cooking and baking with each other.
Relationships: Ignis Scientia/Reader
Series: That’s it! I’ve come up with a new romance!: Ignis/Reader Stories [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1686343
Comments: 17
Kudos: 58





	Batter Up

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I am not affiliated with Square Enix or any production studios behind the Final Fantasy franchise or Final Fantasy XV; I am not making money from this work and I do not own the rights to FF in any way.  
> _____  
> goblin brain thought I shared with Thwippersnapple the other day and I just couldn't not share it with all of you. XD

You’re dancing nervously, bouncing from foot to foot, as you wait outside of Ignis’ apartment. A million anxious thoughts are running through your head—are you dressed too casually, or are you not dressed casually enough? Is this actually a _date_ , or is Ignis just wanting to hang out as friends? You know the royal chamberlain’s time is precious, between his online college classes and duties toward his Highness, so you would hate to do anything to jeopardize a few spare hours on a Saturday evening—you'd hate to ruin it by not being dressed properly, by reading too much into it, by not... 

“Ah, _________, right on schedule,” says Ignis as he opens the door. 

You feel the inevitable rush of heat to your cheeks—like you always do around Ignis—and swallow thickly, nodding. “Wouldn’t wanna keep you waiting, you’re a busy guy!” 

Ignis smiles, stepping back and opening the door fully. “Nonsense,” he says, offering to take your purse and your jacket. “I specifically carved out this time for you.” 

Okay, _wow—_ you’re never sure if it’s just Ignis’ posh accent and his polite, service-oriented upbringing; or if something _more_ can be read into his words with you; but at any rate, you feel yourself flushing again as you kick off your sneakers and lead Ignis to his own kitchen, arms full of a couple of cloth bags with baking ingredients inside. 

The apartment, of course, is immaculate, looking like it could be a feature story on _Apartment Therapy’s_ website _._ A large candle is burning on the coffee table—bergamot and sage—the throw pillows and blankets are arranged _just so_ , and plush rug under the couch looks freshly vacuumed . It’s a far cry from your own space you share with three other roommates—all girls, and it consistently looks like a bomb went off. You try to keep your own room neat, but the rest of the house, well. _A_ for effort, right? Ignis would probably die. 

“So, what are we making?” Ignis asks. He gestures to two large pizzas that are cooling on the stove. “My homemade pizza, as you requested. I’m anxious to see what’s for dessert. I’ve left the oven on, just in case. I was taking them out just as you knocked on the door.” Ignis smiles, taking the totes and setting them on the counter, moving to grab two plates and the pizza cutter. 

“I thought...maybe we could do brownies from scratch? I found a really good recipe in my mom’s old cookbook for brownies with caramel swirl! I mean, I bought a jar of organic caramel from the store, but uh, I figured we’d just use regular ol’ flour and eggs and stuff, otherwise.” 

Ignis nods as he cuts into one of the pizzas and plates three slices for you. “That sounds divine, __________. You don’t mind if we just stand here at the counter and make them, then?” he gestures to the table. “Unless you'd rather sit, of course.” 

You wave your hand nonchalantly. “Nah, Iggy, you’re fine! We can stand and eat and make them. Totally cool.” 

You think maybe it’s just a trick of the light, but...is Ignis blushing? Nah, must be the heat from the stove. 

He hands you a plate and you take a bite of cheesy tomato goodness, humming in appreciation. “Holy shit dude. This is like the best pizza I’ve ever had!” 

Ignis smiles, pink hue shining bright on his high cheekbones. “Surely not as good as Bellissimo’s Pizza across town.” 

“Dude, Bellissimo’s is rockin’, but yours doesn’t have as much grease and I _know_ by default that it’s a hell of a lot healthier.” 

Ignis laughs. “You are correct on the healthful accusation—the crust is a mixture of organic rice flour and cauliflower.” 

You quickly gobble up the first bite, moving to wash your hands. “I bet Noctis doesn’t eat it.” You’ve heard stories of the prince’s particularly picky palate. 

“Oh, he does. You think I tell him what it’s all made of? The sauce is made from fresh tomatoes, bell peppers, and onions, puréed all to hell,” Ignis laughs. “I only use the freshest and least-processed cheeses. The pepperoni is pure beef, uncured, with no sugar. Noct’s better off eating my pizza than a dozen other things I can think of.” 

“Damn. Look at you, sneaking in all the veggies and good stuff.” 

Ignis nods, taking a bite, green eyes twinkling. 

You feel yourself staring a little too long at his open collar, where his silver skull necklace lays nestled between his collarbones—his neck and the top of his chest are slicked with a faint sheen of sweat. And ever the sharp dresser, he’s pressed into form-fitting black slacks (that hug his slender hips _just_ right) and a purple, long-sleeved collared shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, showing off his strong, lean forearms. Ripping your eyes away, you dig in the cloth bag for the photocopy of your mom’s recipe, set out all the ingredients, and begin to make the brownies. 

The two of you have finally finished your pizza—there's a lot of leftovers, which Ignis has offered to let you take home, bless—and you’ve just put the brownies in the oven. You set the timer on the oven for twenty minutes and turn, sighing in satisfaction. Ignis is just leaning on the counter, staring at you with a soft smile. His sandy-colored hair is swept low on his forehead, and his hands are settled in his pockets, with one long, lithe leg crossed over the other. He’s covered in a little flour and cocoa powder, and there’s a small swipe of brownie batter on his cheek, near the corner of his full, pink lips. 

Your heart does a flip as you look at the slightly disheveled Ignis—you gulp audibly, stepping up to him and licking your index finger. “Hey Iggy,” you say, in near-reverence. “Lean down, you have a little...” 

“Oh, saving some of the batter for later, am I?” Ignis chuckles and leans down in one fluid motion, taking one hand out of his pocket to brace himself on the counter. He closes his eyes. 

You stretch up to wipe the glob of brown batter from his cheek, but your goblin brain takes over at the last second, and you surge forward, _licking_ the sticky goop off of his face instead. You hear him inhale sharply, and before he can say anything, you settle back down on your heels and turn, fussing with the bowls and measuring cups and bringing them to the sink. 

“____________,” says Ignis softly. 

You can hear your heartbeat in your ears. You can’t believe you just _did_ that—you wouldn’t be surprised if Ignis just kicked you out onto the street here and now. You can’t even say anything, can’t even apologize—but you can die happy, getting even that close to kissing him. 

“___________,” he says again. “You’ve got some on you, as well.” 

“Huh?” You turn, mixing bowl still in your arms, and finally chance a look at him. 

Wow. Ignis is like, _way_ red. But he doesn’t look angry, which is a good sign, at least. He steps up close to you and swipes the inside of the bowl with his finger—and then he spreads the brownie batter across your parted lips. 

Underneath the obvious taste of chocolate, kissing Ignis Scientia comes with its own, natural sweetness. You can’t help but moan and melt into him as he kisses all the brownie batter from your mouth and then dives him, exploring every inch of you with his tongue. You feel his other hand settle on the side of your neck, which makes you break out into goosebumps. Your heart is pounding wildly, and you feel hot all over, and you’re left wondering if Ignis is as affected by this as you are. 

He pulls away and rests his forehead on yours—it's a little absurd how far he has to bend down to kiss you, but you’d never complain. The stuttered pace of his own breathing mirrors yours, and you finally dare to open your eyes and gaze into the emeralds he keeps hidden behind his glasses. 

“Wow,” you breathe. “I, uh...Iggy.” 

“Yes, love?” he asks softly, so softly, and that’s when you realize he’s on the verge of tears. 

“Hey, you’re—you’re crying, what’s wrong?” 

“My apologies,” says Ignis, sniffing. “I am never quite prepared for how overwhelming it is to simply be around you. I never thought I would get the honor of kissing you.” 

You shake your head, forehead still pressed against his. “You...you really like me like that?” 

“Darling,” chuckles Ignis deeply. “Do you think I just go around kissing anyone like that?” 

“No, I guess—I guess not.” 

“That was quite the bold maneuver,” he says, smiling. “We might have continued dancing around each other for who knows how much longer.” 

It’s true—you and Ignis have been friends for _years_ , and you’ve liked him as more than a friend nearly since the day you met him. “That was, uh. A long time comin’,” you chuckle. 

“Really now?” Ignis finally pulls back and takes your smaller, chubbier hands in his. “How long have you felt this way?” 

You bite your lip and turn away. “This is so pathetic,” you murmur. “I mean, basically, the whole time we’ve known each other. Of course I didn’t realize it was a crush until a few months into meeting you, but uh. Yeah.” 

“Five years,” he breathes, eyes widening in surprise. “To think that this whole time, my affections have been returned.” 

“I just...you know,” you say, shrugging. You’re always painfully aware of how you look, and how Ignis looks—there couldn’t be an odder couple in Insomnia. “I...I’m _me_ , and I just didn’t think that you...fuck, Iggy. Guys who look like you don’t usually like girls who look like me.” 

Ignis’ pretty green eyes narrow in frustration. “I see. Well, they’re all bloody stupid, if you want my honest opinion.” 

You bark out a laugh and squeeze the hands that are still holding so tightly to yours. “It doesn’t bother you?” 

“Do you think me so superficial as to care about weight and clothing size before personality and heart?” 

“No, I just...” You shrug again. “I just feel like I don’t...I don’t match you, y’know.” 

“Hm.” Ignis blatantly drags his gaze from the top of your head to the tips of your toes and back. “Sorry, I don’t see a mismatch anywhere. You look quite perfect to me.” 

You know you’re blushing hard again, and you look away briefly. “I still can’t believe I did that.” 

“I’m so glad you did,” says Ignis. He looks back at the oven. “Ten minutes left on the brownies, love. After they’re finished, how about _we_ finish what we started?” He lifts a perfectly manicured eyebrow, smirking. 

You turn back to him in shock as he leans down to kiss you again, trapping you against the kitchen counter until the timer beeps. 


End file.
